


the face of god in the fire

by princesskay



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Blowjobs, Bottom Hannibal, Caning, Corporal Punishment, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Paddling, Spanking, Whipping, basically a lot of spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6592438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will feels the need to remind Hannibal of his place through a series of punishments that test Hannibal's will to either rebel or submit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the face of god in the fire

**Author's Note:**

> Additional warning: 3/4 of this fic is a spanking scene. If that's not your jam, turn back now; if it is totally your jam, please enjoy! :)

Moonlit rooms and silence greeted him when he slipped past the front door, shaking rain from his coat. The patter of rain on the rooftop was the only sound; it filled the house with a hollow echo that grated against the sense that it was not entirely empty. A familiar presence waited down the hallway, not far from where he stood.

A phone call had dragged him from work early with a demand that he could not refuse. Instant anticipation flooded his veins when he heard the grate of Will's voice over the phone, requiring his presence back home, but now that he stood here, the anticipation stalled to a strange cocktail of dread and need.

He took off his coat and shoes by the door. Hanging up his coat, he froze when he heard a creak of a floorboard coming from the bedroom. His ears rang white noise in the utter silence, unable to detect another sound over the escalating beat of his heart.

Swallowing hard, he crept across the living room to the archway that led into the hallway. Anticipation crackled in the silence, tingling across his skin like electricity. He paused there long enough to take off his jacket, vest, and tie. He had the sense he would not be needing them.

He drew in a deep breath and strode down the hallway to the open bedroom door. Moonlight spilled from the window and across the carpet in a hazy square, illuminating just a patch of the room and leaving the rest in darkness.

Movement in the corner of the room, in the shadows, jolted a breath from his lungs.

“Will?” He murmured.

Will rose from the chair in the darkest corner of the room, a long slender object dangling from his fingertips.

“Hannibal.” He whispered, his voice cutting through the darkness like a knife.

Hannibal didn't utter a reply. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could see the the black wooden trunk in the corner across from Will was sitting open. A cane-backed chair sat in the center of the room, innocuous in and of itself but carrying the promise of the night paired with Will's demeanor.

“Join me.”

Will emerged from the shadows into the patch of moonlight. He wore black slacks and nothing else, his bare chest pale and flawless in the moonbeams. He lifted his hand, laying the thin, wooden cane across his opposite palm.

Hannibal's breath hitched softly, barely audible.

“Shall I undress?”

“Remove your shirt and pants.” Will said.

Hannibal tamped down the tremble in his hands as he reached up to slip open the buttons of his shirt. The fine material parted under his eager fingers, falling forgotten to the floor after his hands had already moved on to his pants. The slacks pooled around his ankles, allowing a cool waft of air across his exposed flesh.

“Come forward.” Will ordered, quiet but firm.

Hannibal stepped out of the pants, and took a few halting steps forward before bolstering his confidence. He lifted his chin, and met Will halfway across the room, in the square of light.

Will's eyes glowed murky gray in the dim light. His lips were set in a half-smile, already pleased by Hannibal's submission.

Their gazes collided, both bold and blistering with desire.

Will's tongue curled across his upper lip. Eyes sliding downward, he reached out to touch the bulge forming at the front of Hannibal's boxers.

Hannibal tucked his teeth over his lower lip, swallowing back a groan that rushed from the back of his throat. Will's deft, warm hand surrounded him through the cotton, massaging the twitching flesh to hardness with a few strokes. He took a step forward against the pleasure that pushed the moan past the seal of his lips.

“Oh,” He panted, hips urging against Will's touch.

Will's hand left abruptly, leaving Hannibal swaying by himself in the ring of moonlight. Hannibal's eyes cracked open to see Will pace thoughtfully to the wooden chair in the middle of the room. He braced his hands on the back of the chair, and observed Hannibal's with a cutting gaze.

“Come here.”

Hannibal steadied himself with a few deep breaths through his nostrils. He crossed the room, stopping across from the Will, with the chair between them.

“I see you have plans for me tonight.” Hannibal said, casting a gaze down at the chair.

The cane whistled through the air, arching up to come within a hair's breadth of Hannibal's cheek.

“You don't speak.” Will hissed.

The cane brushed against Hannibal's cheek, and slid down to caress Hannibal's lower lip.

“You can speak again when I say you're allowed.”

Hannibal gazed back at him defiantly, but remained mute.

“Do you understand?”

Hannibal glanced down at the tip of the cane hovering over his mouth, and back up Will's flashing, thundercloud eyes. He nodded.

“Good. Now, kneel down.”

Hannibal lowered himself to the carpet in front of the chair. He turned his gaze to Will, who circled the chair, cane tipped back against his shoulder. He regarded Hannibal with a look that read half disdain, half desire.

“Lean over the chair.” He said, his voice scraped and low.

Hannibal hesitated only briefly before obeying. He bent over the chair, bracing his elbows flush against the cane backs and hiding his face between his biceps.

“You're probably wondering why you're about to be punished.”

Will's voice came from behind him. Hannibal could feel the heat of Will's gaze scorching down his back, following the curve of his spine and the rise of his ass as he bent over the chair. The boxers clung to his skin, itching and constricting against need that rose hot and quick in Hannibal's blood.

“I'll tell you.”

There was a long pause as Will let the anticipation rise. Hannibal drew in a shallow breath. He could feel the heat of his breath collecting the space between his face and chair, adding to the heat rising up his throat and cheeks.

The whistle of the cane through the air was the only alert. Hannibal tensed against the front edge of the chair, but the cane slowed it's pace just before it reached his backside. The thin implement rested across his buttocks, still and holding the threat of much worse things.

“I haven't been pleased with your attitude.” Will said, snatching the cane back to his hand. “In the last few weeks, I've noticed your submission slipping. You're slow to obey, and just the other night, you had the brass to object to my decision to disallow orgasm. You get mouthy, Hannibal; it's not good for you.”

Hannibal pursed his lips over a retort. He could have begun spilling “I'm sorry, sir”s just now, but he doubted it would avail any reprieve.

“It seems like you need a reminder.” Will said. “A reminder of who's the master here, and who's the slave.”

Hannibal lifted his head a bit to see Will standing over the back of the chair, gazing down at him with an expression of displeasure.

“You can see I have the trunk open.” Will said, motioning to the box a few feet away, “I've been looking through it while you were gone, deciding which implements I'm going to use on your stubborn, spoiled little ass tonight.”

Hannibal's gaze flicked between the trunk and Will's face before pausing there on Will's scintillating eyes.

“The cane I'm holding is definite.”

Hannibal bit back his defiance; it was his defiance that had gotten him here.

“But it can wait.”

Will laid the cane on the end of the bed, and strode to the trunk. He looked through it's contents with a critical gaze.

“We'll warm up with this.”

He pulled a crop from amid the restraints, toys, and other implements. It was sleek black with a triangular head on the end meant for punishment. Leather and slender, it didn't appear lethal, but Hannibal was fully aware of how such a instrument felt against his skin.

Will sauntered back to the chair, holding the crop aloft so that they could both see it glint in the moonlight. He brought the end down against his palm, testing it's sting. The sound sent a shiver down Hannibal's spine, not cold but hot, and gripping once it reached his balls.

Will circled him, casting a burning glance up and down Hannibal's displayed body. His free hand dropped down to touch Hannibal's shoulder, grazing down the flesh stretched over his expanding ribs, and stopping over his lower back.

With a flick of his wrist, the punishment started as a small but jolting sting across Hannibal's right buttock. His boxers offered a thin shield over his skin, leaving the crop to burn in a light, arousing way. It fluttered across his ass, tiny, biting slaps that ranged in intensity between barely grazes and flush greeting of flesh and leather.

Hannibal arched softly against the chair, biting back a moan that rose eagerly to his lips. His skin hummed with the stimulation. It wasn't enough to hurt, but it was entirely enough to make him squirm with humiliation and need.

“You like that, don't you?” Will hummed.

Hannibal braced against the chair as the speed of the flicks increased, darting across his skin in tight circles of slaps all over his arched backside.

“Believe me,” Will whispered, bending closer to Hannibal's ear, “You won't like it by the time I get to the cane.”

Hannibal wrapped his fingers around the cane backs of the chair, forcing himself to kneel motionless. His body shuddered within against the stiffness of his limbs, body eager to tremble and writhe against the titillating sting of the crop.

The crop paused from it's rapid slapping, allowing Hannibal to draw in slow, shallow breath without moaning. He lifted his head an inch to peer over his shoulder. Will stood over him, eyes narrowed and thoughtful. He ran a hand down Hannibal's back, and over the curve of his ass. The stroke moved in a tender circle over Hannibal's ass, feeling out to their shape and the impression the crop had left.

“It doesn't hurt yet, does it?” He murmured. A pause, before his hand gripped tighter and he murmured, “You can answer that.”

Hannibal licked his lips before finding his voice, “No … It just stings a bit.”

“Good.”

His hand departed, and the other returned, wielding the crop. It slapped across the underside curve of Hannibal's ass, licking at the bare skin of his thighs for a few, painful moments. Hannibal wiggled against the chair, compressing a swelling moan down into his belly.

His body arched stiff and trembling as Will increased the force of the slaps, and lengthened the time between them. Short, decisive slaps filled the room, followed by Hannibal's mangled grunt. Each slap of the crop burned through cotton and into his flesh, setting his skin to stinging in light but noticeable pain.

Will braced a hand in the center of Hannibal's back, pinning him down against the chair as the swats came harder. Hannibal's hips squirmed freely, taking the brunt of the force at a different angle each time as he twisted and turned away from the punishment.

Will struck him especially hard, and halted. He grabbed a handful of Hannibal's hair, forcing his head up from the cradle of his arms.

“I want you to sit still.” Will whispered, his breath hot across Hannibal's cheek. “I've barely touched you.”

Hannibal swallowed hard, meeting Hannibal's gaze out of the corner of his eye.

“What do you say?”

“Yes, sir.” Hannibal whispered, his voice soft and hoarse.

Will released his hair, and marched back to the trunk. Hannibal peeked between the rungs of the chair, watching with bated breath as Will chose his next instrument of punishment.

Will plucked a wooden spoon from the box. The spoon's cup was wide and barely curved, offering just enough arch to make it crack effectively across Hannibal's skin. It twirled in Will's deft hand as he returned to the chair, eyes tracking down Hannibal's submissive posture with pleased eyes.

He pointed at Hannibal's boxers with the spoon. “Take them down. Just underneath your ass.”

Hannibal pried one hand from the rung of the chair, and reached down to tug the back of the underwear down.

“Leave everything else covered.” Will ordered.

Hannibal left the elastic to stretch underneath his buttocks, the front still gripping over his hard cock. His cock twitched against the strain of the fabric, aching to be free of the constriction, just as Will wanted.

Will circled the chair twice at languid pace, content to watch Hannibal squirm against the chair for several long, agonizing moments. He stopped at Hannibal's side, head cocked. He smoothed a hand over Hannibal's back and buttocks, stroking the flesh lightly stung by the crop.

“It's barely red.” He observed in a whisper, “We have a long way to go.”

Hannibal bit his lower lip, eyes pinned to the wooden spoon in Will's hand. He adjusted his hands around the rungs of the chair back, bracing himself for the next bout of punishment.

Will dragged the spoon down Hannibal's spine, following the route his hand had just taken. He reached the rounded curve of Hannibal's backside after a few breathless moments, and let the cup of the spoon draw a gentle circle over the skin.

Hannibal swallowed back a sound of anticipation and frustration. He wanted to beg, if only to expedite the punishment.

Just as the waiting became too much to bear, Will raised his arm, halting the stroking of the spoon. He brought it down with a measure of his strength, cracking it softly, almost tenderly across Hannibal's flesh. Hannibal pursed back a sound of pain, and jolted against the chair. His hands gripped sweaty and trembling around the canes, holding himself arched against the edge of the seat. The spoon came down across the opposite cheek, leaving them both to sting and tremble.

Will's thumb dragged across Hannibal's lower back, noting the dew of sweat and the tremble that lay just beneath. Spreading his palm out, he pushed down hard, forcing Hannibal's back into an arch and his ass into the air.

“I like you just like this.” He murmured, dragging the spoon down the cleft, “So open, and vulnerable.”

Hannibal stiffened into position, holding his breath against a sound of objection. The spoon slid cool and smooth across his exposed hole, testing the sensitive flesh with a threat that may or may not come. Instead of striking him there, however, Will withdrew the spoon, and let Hannibal kneel there in stiff, aching silence – waiting.

When the spoon came down again, Hannibal's breath was shuddering in rapid bursts from his lungs, unable to be held back by sheer force of will. The spoon cracked across his skin, harsh and punishing, splitting stinging fire across his ass. Quick and decisive, it followed through with half a dozen more slaps, peppered all across his backside, from one cheek to the other, until he was squirming and arching against the chair.

Will pulled him back into place, and planted a knee in the curve of Hannibal's lower back to pin him in place. He tapped the back of the spoon lightly across Hannibal's ass, barely enough to hurt but just enough to irritate the existing pain. Hannibal channeled every ounce of his self-control into remaining still, his knees planted, ass arched in the air to take the full brunt of the spankings. The swats came down harder and harder, evolving into swinging, painful spanks that made it nearly impossible for Hannibal to remain still. Each one came down with a loud crack between wood and flesh, and jarred a moan against the back of Hannibal's throat. His hips twisted of their own accord, down away from the hard swats, only to snap back into position when Will's knee dug into his back.

At last,Will paused, his breath forming shallow and exhilarated in the crackling silence.

“Good. Good boy.” He whispered, patting the back Hannibal's hand with a doting hand, “It's hard to stay quiet, isn't it?”

Hannibal nodded against the smooth surface of the chair.

“For this next one, I'll revoke the order of silence.” Will allowed, “You can moan and plead all you like – not that it will do you any good.”

Hannibal lifted his head a bit to see Will's face. Will's smile curled devious and pleased, and the depths of his eyes swallowed Hannibal's plaintive expression.

“Thank you, sir.” Hannibal whispered.

“You're learning already.”

Will went back to the trunk, and dropped the spoon back inside. He was quick in his decision this time, plucking a narrow, wooden paddle from the rest with a gleeful sparkle in his eyes.

“This is a good one.” He said, tapping the paddle against his palm as he returned, “I know you respond to this one.”

Hannibal swallowed back a feverish moan. Even if Will had granted him permission to speak, he didn't want to allow Will to see how desperate he was for this to be over. He'd taken two of the punishments, neither very harsh or lengthy, and already his skin burned and his control wavered as if on a tight rope. His cock lunged against the fabric of his boxers, hard and leaking wetness into the material. He could feel his cock rubbing hard and aching into the moist patch of fabric; the smallest of touches would have him bucking and coming hard.

“This is serious now.” Will said, observing the paddle with narrowed eyes. “Anything you'd like to say – ask – before we go on?”

“No, sir.” Hannibal whispered, huskily, “You said I deserve, so I'll take every spanking you give me.”

Will responded with a taut smile. “That's good.”

He brought his knee back up on Hannibal's lower back, forcing him down against the chair. Hannibal squeezed his eyes shut as he arched his hips up in a willing offer for punishment. Will rubbed a hand over his ass, squeezing at the fullest curves and the reddest patches of punished skin. Hannibal bit back a gasp as Will reached between his thighs to grasp his balls through the fabric of his boxers, gathering them and fondling them in his palm.

“Ahhh ...” The moan shuddered from Hannibal's lips, unbidden.

He squirmed against the chair as Will's hand flattened and smoothed upward, stroking between his ass cheeks. The rough ridges and curves of Will's palm and fingers rubbed up and down the cleft, dragging another guttural moan from Hannibal's lips.

Will paused, letting Hannibal writhe in biting need for a long moment before pressing his fingertip into the taut hole. Without lube, the ministration made Hannibal's flesh burn and clench, but he struggled to accept the intrusion with parting thighs. He shuffled his knees across the floor, planting them wide apart, and thrusting his hips up against Will's probing finger. Will let Hannibal fuck his dry hole on his finger a few lingering moments before withdrawing his hand. Hannibal lapsed back against the chair, panting and swallowing back rising moans of disappointment and need.

Will chuckled, softly.

“You're so hard, aren't you?”

Hannibal squeezed his eyes shut, and nodded.

“Take your underwear all the way off.”

Fighting back a tide of humiliation, Hannibal pushed the boxers down over the swell of his cock, and wiggled them all the way down his thighs.

Will grasped his shoulder, pulling him upright. Hannibal swayed on his knees, light-headed with the sudden motion and conflicting desire and pain.

Will gazed down at his hard cock, a smile turning his lips.

“You like being punished.”

Hannibal swallowed back a rebellious reply.

Will stepped between Hannibal and the chair. Grasping Hannibal's jaw, he forced him to look up. Their eyes met in the dim light, clearly seeing each other's intentions and desires despite the lack of light.

“You like it.” Will repeated. “Answer me. Aloud.”

Hannibal hesitated for a brief moment before nodding. “Yes, sir.”

Will sat down in the chair, spreading his knees wide on either side of Hannibal. His cock tented his trousers in an obscene display of need that didn't seem to bother him. He patted his left thigh.

“Come here.”

Hannibal shuffled closer, between Will's knees. His eyes darted from Will's, touching the rest of his body, but not his face, too ashamed by his blatant need.

“Bend over my knee.” Will ordered, his voice a rough, erotic whisper.

Hannibal threw himself over Will's thigh, eager to hide his blushing face and needy eyes. Will released a long, pleased exhale as Hannibal's hips arched over his leg. He ran a hand over the back of Hannibal's head, scraping his nails across the scalp, and down over Hannibal's shoulder and lower back. He paused over the curve of Hannibal's spine, pinning him there with a warm, heavy palm.

The first strike of the paddle came harsh and merciless, jarring Hannibal across Will's thigh in a wild attempt to escape the burning pain. Will's hand pressed harder against his back, and his other leg crossed over Hannibal's flailing ones.

The paddle cracked loud and crisp against his skin, once, twice, three times.

Hannibal pursed his lips over a moan as Will chased the pain across Hannibal's ass with a stroke of his hand. Hannibal heard him release a low sigh as the paddle returned to flesh. Will smoothed the paddle across his ass, stroking the tender, stinging flesh with smooth wood that would soon be breaking him. Hannibal held his breath, waiting for the next strikes to come, but he couldn't prepare himself for the immediacy and fire of the spankings that came next.

Will resumed the punishment with driving force, swinging the paddle over Hannibal's raised ass without a pause between spanks. Bent over and pinned down, Hannibal was helpless to escape the licks of the paddle that rained down on his skin in response to his bucking. Will struck with the paddle rapid-fire, quick, harsh spankings that rang through the room with clean cracks of wood against flesh. The length of the paddle struck across both cheeks, hardly varying from one spot through a full ten spankings. The pain sparked white-hot and stinging, breaking past the walls of Hannibal's self-control and flooding his lips with pained whimpers and moans. He bucked against Will's thigh with each paddling, moaning out his pain and scalding need in uncontrollable cries.

When Will relented, Hannibal lapsed across his thigh, breathing hard against the sting of pained tears.

“Oh god ...” Hannibal moaned, twisting against Will's leg.

“Lie still.” Will reminded him.

He rubbed a hand over Hannibal's spanked ass, igniting the pain to a deeper level with the squeeze of his palm.

“Oh my god, please.” Hannibal moaned, “Please, sir, I'm begging-”

The paddle struck him with a loud crack, halting the flow of the plea from his lips.

“We're not done.” Will said, “I told you begging would avail nothing.”

Hannibal opened his mouth to make another attempt, but the paddle came down with decisive force that burned all the way down to his bones. He clutched onto the leg of the chair and dug his toes into the carpet as the strike all but threw him over Will's thigh.

“Oh god, Will-”

_Crack!_

Hannibal pursed his lips over a cry, strangling it deep in his throat. His eyes slammed shut against a rush of hot tears. He tried to tell himself it didn't hurt so badly, that he could take as many as Will could give, that he could lie here all night and let Will spank him raw and bloody. Mind over matter.

The crack of the paddle blurred into a rapid series of strikes that he lost count of. When Will paused again, Hannibal was breathing hard through his nostrils, and not admitting a single sound past his lips. His skin burned like fire, but not enough to make the hard swell of his cock flag. He was throbbing against Will's thigh, wet at the tip and aching with stiff veins.

Will eased Hannibal down from his leg, depositing him in a drooping heap at his feet. Hannibal shifted to his knees the moment his ass chafed against the carpet.

Will rose from the chair, and returned to the black trunk in the corner of the room. Hannibal glanced despairingly at the cane lying on the bed. It was the final punishment, but one that had not yet come.

A twisted moan ballooned in the back of his throat as Will turned to face him, holding a black, leather whip in his hand. The long, narrow straps dangled from the gleaming handle, each one promising biting pain and bloodying force.

Will wandered back to the chair, running his fingers through the slender strips of leather. His gaze deviated for brief moments from the whip to note Hannibal's expression of shifting, struggling responses.

“Are you having trouble now being obedient?”

Will paused at Hannibal's side, gazing down at him with curiosity and pleasure. He let the whip fall from his hand, straps spilling over Hannibal's shoulder and across his back. Hannibal drew in a shuddering breath as the whips snaked across his naked skin, carrying the threat of a strike that could come at any moment.

“No.” Hannibal rasped, lifting his chin.

Will's tongue slid across his lower lip as he stepped behind Hannibal, dragging the whip to the other side of his back.

“I expect honesty from you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You want me to punish you with this?” Will asked.

Hannibal closed his eyes briefly, shuffling through a number of replies. An honest answer would sound like rebellion.

“I'm … expecting that you won't be merciful.”

“You anticipate the pain?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But does it excite you?”

Hannibal quelled shiver that gripped his belly. He reached down to touch his cock, directing Will's attention to it's hard, throbbing state.

“You can see how I respond to your punishment, Master.”

Will drew the strings of the whip over Hannibal's shoulder and pressed the top of the handle underneath Hannibal's chin. Forcing Hannibal's head back, Will leaned over to gaze into his hard, glinting eyes.

“I'm not questioning my eyesight.” He hissed, “Now answer the fucking question or I will whip you bloody with this thing.”

Hannibal hitched in a breath, and steadied himself with a hand against the carpet. The handle of the whip wedged underneath his chin, threatening to slide back and strangle him.

“I apologize, sir.” He choked out, “Yes – the answer is yes.”

Will withdrew the handle with jar of his hand, allowing Hannibal to gasp in a breath. He paced away from the chair, holding the whip behind his back with both hands. Hannibal tracked his movement as he massaged his throat.

“You say you want this punishment, yet you defy me.” Will murmured, “Don't you get tired of this endless cycle?”

“I rebel, you punish me. It is more of our life, than a niche cycle behind closed doors.”

“You suggest you continue to defy me because you enjoy being punished by me.”

“Yes, sir.”

Will turned sharply and strode back to where Hannibal knelt.

“Bend over the chair.” He ordered.

Hannibal grasped the edge of the chair and pulled himself up over the seat. Pain shifted through his skin with the movement, chafing against the need that rested taut between his thighs.

“If it's punishment you want, I won't consider mercy.” Will said.

He planted his knee over Hannibal's lower back, pinning Hannibal over the chair as he raised the whip.

The first strike rained like fire over his skin, not one strike as the previous punishments, but a dozen slender stripes laying themselves raw over his backside. They bit in like tiny, vicious needles, prickling his flesh with white-hot pain and radiating heat.

A strangled sound of pain wrenched itself from his throat. He grabbed onto the rails of the chair as his body twisted uncontrollably against the pain.

The whips slapped across his skin under Will's powerful hand, striking fully across his ass and licking at the tops of his thighs. Fresh skin burst into flame under the touches of the straps. The moans tangling in his throat broke apart at the third strike, spilling past his lips in loud, guttural noises of pain and need. His hands trembled around the rungs of the chair, and his hips surged down and away from the fiery lick of punishment.

Will's knee dug deeper into his back as the punishment eased for a brief moment. He smoothed a hand over Hannibal's flank, feeling out the heat rising from his raw flesh. Hannibal whimpered, and twisted away from the gentle caress.

“So beautiful.” Will murmured, “You look so pretty punished like this.”

Hannibal pursed his lips over a response. Forcing himself to remain still, he trembled under Will stroking hand, skin burning like fire despite the tenderness of the touch.

“I want you to sit still for this.” Will added, “Just like before.”

His hand slid down to grip Hannibal's hip, guiding him into an arched position that presented his backside for the punishment.

Hannibal shuddered as Will drew the straps of the whip across his burning flesh, up over one ass cheek to the other, and then between them, agonizingly slow. Hannibal bit back a lurching moan, and dug his knees into the carpet to hold himself still. The cool, leather strips slithered over his balls and across his hole, an intimate caress that suggested pain beyond comparison.

“Please ...” Hannibal whispered.

“Please, what?”

Hannibal cautiously lifted his gaze to Will, who was more focused on the motion of the whip over his intimate parts.

“Please, don't.”

A dark smile touched Will's mouth.

“I still want you capable of sex.” Will said, a chuckle ending the remark, “If I wanted you curled up on this floor with busted balls, you already would be.”

Hannibal controlled the exhale of relief that rushed from his lungs. He wanted to appear grateful, not desperate.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You have nothing to thank me for. Yet.”

The whip left his skin for brief moments before cutting with a sharp whistle through the air to strike him once more. Hannibal lurched against the chair, gritting his teeth over a moan. Pain surged anew across his flesh, awakening the resting pain from previous implements.

Will wielded the whip in a series of harsh, relentless strikes across Hannibal's ass. He waited to strike out until he heard Hannibal's moan out at the previous lashing, creating a twisted duet of cracking leather and guttural groaning.

Hannibal's skin was afire by the time Will relented. Swallowing back the lingering moans, he turned a brief gaze over his shoulder to see the state of his punished skin. Even in the dark, he could see it glowing red with pain and friction. He wondered if he was bleeding yet, knowing Will wouldn't be satisfied until he was breaking under the sting of the cane.

“Tell me how it feels.” Will murmured.

He withdrew his knee from Hannibal's back, and circled the chair, viewing Hannibal's trembling and raw flesh from every angle.

“It burns like fire.” Hannibal whispered, “It aches, all the way to my bones.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I want you to finish what you started.”

“You want the cane?”

There was a pause as the anticipation crackled in the air between them. Hannibal drew in a shallow, halting breath that rattled through the air.

“Yes, sir.”

Will regarded him with a frosty gaze for several moments before turning and walking back to the trunk. He dropped the whip into the box with a careless flick of his wrist, and pulled the lid shut with a reverberating thud.

Hannibal reinforced his stance across the chair. The light flickered there at the end of the tunnel, crowded by pain, but there.

“Stand up.” Will said.

Hannibal pushed up from the chair, gathering his trembling legs under himself. He came to his feet, swaying and brimming with pain, chin lifted against the moisture crowding behind his eyelids.

“Come around the chair.”

Hannibal limped around the chair, gripping the back of it for support. Will leaned against the trunk, his hands folded loosely in front of him, his eyes tracking up and down Hannibal's trembling body with glinting satisfaction.

“I want you to lean over the back of the chair.” Will said, motioning with his index finger, “You can brace yourself on the seat of the chair, but I want you standing for this.”

Hannibal's eyes darted between Will and the chair for a wavering moment of dread. Standing for a caning was common, yet after the punishments he had already endured, he was unsure his legs would support him through the duration of the final beating.

Will pushed off the trunk and marched toward him, jolting him into motion.

“I said lean over. What the fuck are you waiting for?” Will demanded.

Hannibal plunged over the back of the chair. His hands slid across the smooth wood on thick perspiration for a moment before he managed to brace his hands flat out on the seat.

Will passed behind him to retrieve the cane from the bed. Hannibal watched out of the corner of his eye as Will slid the length of the cane through the grip of his hand, not dissimilar to the way he stroked Hannibal's cock.

“It's so simple, yet so painful.” Will murmured, running his thumb over the smooth cane, “One of the most painful punishments twisted people like ourselves have ever concocted. The true test of submission and endurance.”

“You may test me, sir, but you won't find me lacking.” Hannibal said.

“You sound confident.”

“So do you.”

“I'm confident you won't be able to walk a straight line, much less sit down tomorrow.”

“That is a constant variable.”

“And your reaction to it isn't?”

“You have never pushed me this far before, sir. Don't you intend to find out just how much farther you can make me go?”

Will smiled as he approached Hannibal. He smoothed a hand over the back of his Hannibal's head, lacing his fingers through strands of hair and digging his nails into the scalp. Hannibal shivered as Will's nails scraped all the way down his neck and spine, and came to rest against his lower back.

The cane touched against his backside, Will lining up the strike before he began.

Hannibal's stomach darted up against the wild drumming of his heart, clenching with anticipation and dread.

The whistle of air, now as familiar to him as breathing, reached his ears just before the first strike of the cane. The thin rod struck across his flesh in a thin, cutting strike, sparking pain hotter than all the rest through his flesh. Hannibal jarred against the chair, a moan spilling down his throat and driven by the breathtaking pain.

Will thumbed gently at the spot, humming his appreciation at the imprint of the cane across the curve of Hannibal's ass. He tapped softly with the cane against the underside of Hannibal's ass cheek, sparking tiny needles of pain into his skin and teasing him with lurking pain. The rapping crept down to the very tops of his thighs, striking with small, titillating slaps against the tender flesh.

Hannibal's mind screamed a myriad of desperate responses, but he kept them all locked behind his throat. His only response to the tapping of the cane was the tiny jolts of his body against the chair, the occasional flick of his hips back against the ensuing pain.

The tapping came to a halt, leaving Hannibal's shallow breathing to fill to the silence. Will rubbed a hand over his ass, massaging punished flesh and dragging the cheeks apart to expose his hole. The smooth shaft of the cane dragged through the cleft, up against his hole and down against the underside of his balls. Hannibal's body stiffened as Will traced the end of the cane over the swollen shape of his balls. Will's free hand smoothed against his inner thigh before slipping in to grasp Hannibal's cock motionless and pointed toward the floor. He dragged the tip of the cane down the throbbing shaft at an agonizingly slow pace. The smooth caress of the wood and the reminder of it's painful possibilities clutched Hannibal in between hot, throbbing need and stifling fear.

“God, please ...” The words choked past his lips, whimpered and pathetic.

The cane left him for brief moments, before whistling down to strike softly but effectively against the back of his balls. Hannibal lurched against the chair, fighting back a harsher curse. The pain tingled through his balls and down in to his cock, pulling him stiffer in Will's hand.

“Please.” He whispered, hoarsely, “Will, sir-”

The cane struck him again, this time across the tops of his buttocks, breaking his plea off into a strangled groan. Will released his cock, and Hannibal drew his thighs together, shielding himself against the next series of strikes that peppered across his skin.

The cane came down in quick, stinging swats, leaving fire embedded in his flesh. He gripped the edges of the chair, holding himself still and upright as a tremble took over his thighs. His hips bucked against his will after every crack of wood against flesh, and soon, his choked, rasping moans joined in with the rebellion of his aching body.

Will offered no order to cease his movements or pleading, quite content to stand in an almost leisurely posture and direct the cane over Hannibal's proffered flesh with an effortless flick of his wrist. Hannibal caught glimpses of Will's cool, pleased expression between the clenching reactions of his body, but he could gather no ire toward Will's cavalier satisfaction. His focus clung solely to the rhythmic strike of the cane across his backside, hypnotic pain and a stinging ache that chafed him raw and ragged.

Hannibal lost count of the strikes somewhere between fifteen and thirty. When at last Will gave him a reprieve, his skin was burning anew with pain that outmatched paddle and whip. The stinging chafed unbearable against his shuddering body and lapsing confidence, and his legs threatened to give out underneath him. He clung to the chair, his only support, with white-knuckled fists. Bent over, his temples throbbed with racing blood, and his cheeks with the ruddy flush of humiliation that matched the brilliant color of his punished backside. He was at his limit, yet he didn't move. Will was prepared to push him over the line, and Hannibal was no coward; he would go over that line, and farther, if Will asked him to.

“How does that feel?” Will asked.

He tilted the cane back against his shoulder, and stepped around Hannibal's trembling stance. His hand grazed over the curves of Hannibal's body, brushing for brief, white-hot moments over his whipped ass.

“It's painful.” Hannibal choked out, “You've set my flesh on fire.”

“You can say the word at any moment.” Will reminded him.

Silence met Will's remark. Hannibal leaned over the back of the chair, stiff and mute.

“I'm giving you a chance escape the punishment sooner than I intended.” Will murmured.

He circled the chair, dragging his hand across Hannibal's shoulders, up the stiff curve of his back, and across the tender, raw flesh of his backside. Hannibal bit back a whimper as Will's hand slid across his punished flesh and squeezed. He could feel the cutting edge of Will's gaze, razor-sharp and skinning his back, his scalp, the ragged flesh laid bare and raw across his backside.

“You won't take it.” Will said, “I applaud your commitment.”

“My body is yours.” Hannibal whispered, hoarsely, “You do with it what you will; I have no say or control over it.”

Will's tongue curled over his upper lip, leaving it sleek and shining in the dark. He uttered a low chuckle.

“Such submissive, obedient behavior. Perhaps I should punish you like this more often.”

“That would be your astute decision, sir.”

Will brought the cane down from his shoulder, flicking it through the air to create a threatening whistle. Hannibal tensed against the chair, straining his eyes around the back of the chair to see when the next strike was coming.

“It makes me wonder ...” Will murmured.

He dragged the cane up the backs of Hannibal's thighs and over the curve of his ass. Hannibal drew in a sharp breath as it came to rest across his ass cheeks, ready to strike at any moment.

“Are you truly repentant, or are you just saying what I want to hear?” Will asked.

“That wouldn't be very intelligent of me.” Hannibal rasped, “Lying to you would earn me another night like this one.”

Will flicked the cane softly across Hannibal's ass, just enough to make it sting.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“No, sir.”

“Mmm.”

Will dragged the cane back down across Hannibal's thigh, and held it there as if eyeing his target. Hannibal stiffened, holding his breath in anticipation for the painful lick of the cane across his thighs.

“Even if you are telling me the truth, I have to be sure.” Will said, “I have to punish you thoroughly. As thoroughly as you deserve.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'm glad you agree. Are you still thankful?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell me why.”

“I'm thankful for your mercy, sir. I'm thankful for your patience, and for your teaching me obedience.”

Just as the words passed Hannibal's lips, Will swung the cane across the backs of Hannibal's thighs. Fresh pain burst hot across Hannibal's flesh, untouched flesh unprepared and screaming in agony under the blazing punishment of the cane. He lurched against the chair, offering a sharp cry of pain to Will's waiting ears.

“Are you still thankful?” He repeated.

Hannibal swallowed hard to find his voice. “Yes, sir.” He choked out.

“Show me.” Will said, “I want to hear a 'thank you, sir' after every one. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

The cane lashed across his thighs, laying a pink, burning welt just above the previous one, spilling across his flesh just as painful.

“Thank you, sir.” Hannibal whispered, his voice strangled.

The cane inched higher, just below his ass cheeks. There was a pause as the smooth wood switch rested there, pressing anticipation into his flesh. When it slipped away, it came down again in a harsh, powerful hiss of slender wood across skin.

Hannibal bucked against the chair, letting the moan of pain flow freely from his mouth.

“Thank you, sir.” He whispered, his voice small and dwindling into a moan.

Will flicked the cane, slicing it through the air with a whistle. It brushed across Hannibal's skin, darting away a few torturous times before coming down across his ass with a brutal crack.

Hannibal sucked in a breath against the swell of pained tears in his eyes. It took a few deep inhales before he could speak.

“Thank you, sir.” He said, his voice trembling on the verge of breaking.

Will dragged a hand over his ass, thumb following the raised line the cane had left behind.

“Good.” He murmured, “I love to hear you.”

He dragged the cane between Hannibal's ass cheeks, and down to his inner thigh. He prodded Hannibal's legs apart.

“Spread them.” He ordered.

Hannibal bit back a moan, and shifted down against the chair to move his trembling legs farther apart. The stance was difficult to maintain, leaving most of his weight on the chair, yet Will would expect nothing less than dedication to the requested position.

Will slid a hand over Hannibal's ass, and between his legs. He cupped Hannibal's balls, giving them a gentle squeeze, before withdrawing his hand entirely.

Hannibal turned his chin against his shoulder to watch as Will came to stand in position on the left side of the chair. He swung the cane as if warming up for baseball, eyes trained on the target. His hair clung sweaty to his neck and forehead, and his cock formed an obscene bulge in the front of his trousers. The moonlight crafted an ethereal glow around him, highlighting the fine curves of his body, and leaving other parts in shadow. In that moment, Hannibal would have offered to lean over this chair for the duration of the night, thanking his master for each and every punishment, accepting all the pain for the miraculous chance to touch such beauty and perfection even once.

As Will resumed the punishment, Hannibal closed his eyes and counted off the strikes, following each one with a whispered “thank you, sir,” that twisted more sincere and reverent than any other pleading or conniving remark that had come before.

When Will stopped, at last, Hannibal's ass ached and burned white-hot, but he was hazy with pleasure, high on the pain.

Will put the cane back in the box, and returned to where Hannibal clung to the chair to keep himself on his feet. He wrapped his arms around Hannibal's middle and brought him upright. The blood collecting in Hannibal's face from being bent over surged back down into his body, leaving him light-head and swaying against Will embrace. He clung to Will's shoulders, smiling crooked and barely lucid with pleasure and pain.

“Thank you, sir.” He mumbled, one last time.

Will smiled. The brightness of his eyes was the only thing Hannibal could focus on entirely as Will guided him to the bed. The sheets accepted his trembling, floating body after a brief fall from Will's arms. He reached out for Will as Will stepped away from the bed.

Will returned a few moments later with a bottle of ointment. Lying down on the bed, he pulled Hannibal into his arms and halfway across his body. He poured out pool of the ointment into his palm and reached down to smooth it over Hannibal's raw, burning flesh. The fresh pain sparked brief life into Hannibal's brain, and he clutched onto Will's shoulders in a moment of shock as Will massaged the ointment into his skin.

“Are you happy with me now?” Hannibal asked, nuzzling his mouth and nose into Will's neck.

“I set the bar high tonight.” Will whispered, “And you exceeded my expectations.”

Setting the ointment aside, Will wrapped both arms fully around Hannibal and held him until the languid affect of the overwhelming pain eased. As Hannibal's mind rose from the drowsiness, he smoothed his hand down Will's body until he found his hardness resting stiff underneath his pants.

Will groaned softly. His cock twitched with fresh desire under Hannibal's caress, lurching with need anew against the confines of his clothing.

Hannibal slipped his belt buckle open and tugged the zipper down to reveal his cock aching against the elastic of his boxers. Will lifted his hips eagerly as Hannibal tugged at the two layers of fabric, pulling them all the way down Will's thighs in one yank. Will kicked the pants the rest of the way off as Hannibal laid hold of his cock. The thick, throbbing flesh swelled again in Hannibal's fist, gleaming moisture at the tip.

“Fuck ...” Will moaned.

His hips rocked against the motion of Hannibal's hand, driving the pace faster in his need.

“Are you close?” Hannibal whispered, glancing between Will's pleasured expression and his dripping cock.

Will nodded, and gave a choked moan.

“Oh god, yes … I almost came just then when I was using the cane on you.” He panted, “Fuck, you looked so beautiful, bent over, ass so red and punished ...”

The words fell off as Hannibal dove down to take Will's cock in his mouth, lapping up the drops of pre-cum and fitting his lips around the thick girth. He sank his head down, nearly choking himself in his eagerness before he found the rhythm with Will's bucking hips.

“Oh god, yes!” Will cried.

His fingers curled around Hannibal's hair, guiding his head down faster as the pleasure surged through his body.

“Yes, take it.” He panted, “Suck it all down, baby.”

Hannibal breathed steadily through his nostrils as he relaxed his throat to Will's big cock. Saliva swam through his mouth, spilling past the seal of his lips and down Will's shaft. With a final swallow, Will's cock slipped down his throat, tunneling all the way down until Hannibal's face met with the soft bed of hair at his crotch.

They rested there briefly, Will trembling and straining against the squeeze of Hannibal's throat, Hannibal breathing carefully through his nostrils. He grasped Will's hips, guiding them gently against his face. Will moaned, hips twitching in eagerness to thrust with abandon against Hannibal's face.

“Oh god, Hannibal.” He whimpered.

His fingers curled tighter around Hannibal's hair, pulling strands out at the root. The tremble of his hips pressed into Hannibal's palms, barely held at bay from fucking into Hannibal's mouth with abandon.

Hannibal sealed his lips tighter around the base of Will's cock, and slid back. Will's cock slipped out of the back of his throat for brief seconds as he sucked off, only to be captured once more when he plunged back down again. Will gasped, hips rising from the bed, hands pawing at the sheets and Hannibal's hair.

“God, yes.” Will moaned, “Good boy, good boy.”

Hannibal grasped Will's hips tighter as he increased the speed of his sucking. His throat stood relaxed to Will's cock, taking it easily with every eager swallow. Will's hips twitched under his grasp, and his toes curled into the mattress as the pleasure swelled within him. His praising words broke off into indistinct moaning, and then silence. The first fiery touches of the orgasm drew him taut against Hannibal's face, and released him in a series of hard spasms as the pleasure tore through him. Hannibal drew back to the tip, drinking up Will's release with eager swallows and licks across the weeping head. A few drops jetted past the swipe of his tongue, landing hot and thick on his cheek and jaw. He wrapped his fingers around Will's cock as the pleasure began to ease, and gave it a few firm pumps to milk the last of the cum onto his tongue.

Will shuddered and moaned, his hips curling away from the caress against his sensitized cock. He petted a trembling hand through Hannibal's hair, and laced his fingers into the nape to pull Hannibal up to him.

He caught Hannibal's mouth in a passionate kiss the moment Hannibal was up next to him, delving his tongue past lips and teeth with the first stroke. Hannibal moaned a response as Will kissed his mouth raw.

Will drew back, sucking in a breath past clenched teeth.

“You beautiful, maddening fucking man.” He whispered, clutching Hannibal's throat, “I can't decide if I want to throw you back over that chair, or make you come until you're dry and sore.”

“I prefer the latter, but you're the master.” Hannibal whispered, “As I said, my body is yours.”

“What kind of master would I be if I rewarded your obedience with another spanking?” Will sighed. He smoothed a hand across Hannibal's cheek, smearing the cum from his jaw with a swipe of his thumb, “Besides, you're so beautiful when you're coming for the fifth time, dry and aching, pleading me because you can't orgasm one more time.”

Hannibal's lashes fluttered over blushing cheeks, and his lips drew in a hitched breath.

“Please, sir.” He moaned.

Will's hand slid down his chest, teasing one hard nipple, before delving down to grasp Hannibal's cock in a rough caress. Hannibal moaned, hips urging into the touch. His aching body trembled, already so close to coming.

“Is that what you want?” Will asked.

His hand squeezed tighter around Hannibal's cock, wringing the pleasure from him with a harsh pull.

“God … yes, sir.” Hannibal panted, “Please, don't make me wait, sir. If I come now, you can make me come another time as soon as you make me hard again.”

“And again, and again.” Will whispered.

He pressed his mouth into the curve of Hannibal's throat as he worked his hand over Hannibal's throbbing cock. Hannibal leaned into the kiss, and spread his thighs to Will's rapid stroking.

“I want you to come now.” Will murmured, “And then, as soon as we're both hard again, I'm going to fuck you raw.”

“You want me to be crippled tomorrow.” Hannibal panted, “You've already punished me; I won't be able to walk.”

“You'll walk.” Will growled, “You'll do whatever I say, or it's back to the chair.”

Hannibal moaned, hips rising from the bed, and rutting into Will's hand as the pleasure surged up hotter through his veins. Will's breath blazed hot down his neck, one hand spread over Hannibal's back to hold him in place as he rubbed him to orgasm.

Hannibal cried out as the pleasure burst through his body, springing free from his cock and spilling in hot, milky bursts from the swollen head. Cum jetted onto Will's chest, and poured down his knuckles, spasm after spasm forcing abundant release from Hannibal's cock.

Will's hand eased from Hannibal's cock, letting it droop wet and satisfied against Hannibal's thigh. He pressed a kiss to Hannibal's panting mouth before rising to get a towel.

Hannibal lapsed back against the sheets, gazing at the ceiling in utter satisfaction. His body hummed throughout with the aftermath of pleasure, and his ass ached from punishment, though it was now more of a dull, burning ache that pleased him rather than the white-hot agony of immediate pain.

Will returned, wiping his hands and stomach off with a towel. He sat down on the bed next to Hannibal, and wiped down his belly for him.

“Don't drift off.” He murmured, “I still have to fuck you.”

“I'm awake.” Hannibal murmured.

“Good. I'm going to need you awake for the next few hours.”

“You have plans for me aside from multiple orgasms?”

“I always have plans for you.”

Hannibal smiled, and caught Will's hand just as it retreated. Will dropped the towel to lace his fingers through Hannibal's. Hannibal pulled him down into a kiss; not a hard, passionate kiss like before, but a gentle one that included only a meeting of their lips.

“I had a moment when I was leaned over that chair.” Hannibal murmured, as their lips parted.

“What moment was that?”

“I looked up at you, and for a moment, I thought I was seeing the face of God.” Hannibal whispered, a smile curling his mouth, “At the very least, an angel of the highest order.”

“If I'm God, then you must be my perfect creation.”

“Perfect? If you thought so, you wouldn't have me over the chair in the first place.”

“Perfect in your imperfection.” Will said, “Nothing is perfect, unless we perceive it to be. And I perceive you to be the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Hannibal masked a tremor of emotion in a smile. “Yes. As are you.”

“Even if I do give you a merciless whipping?”

“Especially then.”

Hannibal pressed another kiss to Will's mouth, savoring the taste in the raw light of the space between scenes.

When Will lifted his head, he was Master again. His cock rose hard between his thighs, and his eyes shone devious desire and cool control.

He strode to the black trunk and withdrew a length of rope, and a bottle of lube. Hannibal's arms were already lying compliant above his head when Will returned to the bed. He wrapped the cords around Hannibal's wrists and through the rungs of the bed, securing them together in a skillful knots. Hannibal gave a soft groan as he was bound to the bed and helpless.

Will stood back to observe Hannibal's body stretched out on the bed, and tied down.

“You took your punishment very well.” He said, “But the night is far from over.”

Hannibal closed his eyes as Will crawled between his legs and touched him with deft fingers that could stretch him open to the gaping point.

In fire, we are forged down to our most basic core, to our most sensitive, emotional being. In fire, the insignificant is melted away. In fire, we see our true self.

In the fire, he saw the face of God, not the God of centuries and biblical texts, but the God of his soul who ruled him with divine grace and mercy. He would give himself over and over again to that control, and in his submission, find perfection in every flaw.

 


End file.
